


Velvet

by thunderip



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderip/pseuds/thunderip
Summary: Peter Parker, and omega rights advocate is taken on his sixteenth birthday and sold at an auction two years later.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction, so I do welcome any constructive criticism and advice. I’m also looking for beta readers if anyone would be so kind, preferably grammarians, with a good lexicon and critical eye for language.  
> In this world omegas are taken into correction at 16, sold at 18 and can be bought at auctions, typically quite fancy affairs, but that depends on the nature of the omega up for auction. Omegas that are associated with wealthy families, or are otherwise prestigious fall into this aforementioned category. Peter’s gala is unconventional, he is deemed as a special case, and thus is taken earlier than normal and thusly the gala is unorthodox.  
> Tony Stark knows that Peter Parker is Spiderman, and that he is an Omega, but not that he ran Omega Liberation and Activism, no one knew this until recently when Omega Protection Office tracked the blog’s data, linking it back to Peter.  
> I should also add that this is post-Civil-War, pre-Infinity-War, also, Civil-War was handled without the Avengers breaking up, so I can include more characters that I like, and don't have to deal with angsty Tony.

“Are you Mr Peter Parker?” The officer asked.  
“Yes.”  
“Yes, sir”. He corrected. “We have reason to believe that you are responsible for the creation and administering of Omega Liberation and Activism. How would you define your media outlet?”  
“An Omega Rights Blog, specializing in treatment of Omegas by the American Government”.  
“And do you deny the accusations that you incite acts of violence?”  
“I do”.  
“Despite your calls for Omegas to ‘rise up’?”.  
“Yes”. Peter had been preparing for his interview with an associate from Omega Protection Office, he wasn’t going to let himself be caught out now. “I acknowledge that it can be perceived as a call for violence, but it would be passive resistance”, Peter responded, in an uncharacteristically rehearsed manner.  
The man had come knocking on his door this morning, demanding to see one Peter Parker, his Aunt letting him in. His black suit and beady eyes, and a neat moustache made him the authoritarian alpha of Peter’s nightmares, that reinforced stereotype of controlling reified into a single person.  
“You’re almost sixteen, Omega Parker. Soon we'll be taking you in, and when we sell you this disobedience makes you a very prestigious purchase. The Alpha who buys you will be lauded for breaking you.” The calm attitude with which the officer mentioned breaking him made Peter’s blood run cold under his skin.“We’ll be taking you into a correctional facility in one week. Unfortunately your behaviour has warranted concern, so we have decided that a stricter and harsher regime will be utilised to fix your behaviour. It should be a two year program, although we are at liberty to extend this for as long as we see fit.” 

Peter nodded forlornly, accepting the weight of his fate laid upon him by the officer. The week came and went. That blasted knocking rang through his small apartment, clanging and beating through the air. Peter was typing out his final post on OLA, but Aunt May went up to the door, for the officer - and the two policemen behind him - a shocked expression showed on her face, but was quickly silenced by a smile, a thin veneer for the contempt that lay beneath.  
“Omega Parker, didn’t I tell you it was in your best interests to stop writing on that blasted thing?”  
“I’m just writing a last message.” Peter typed the final words into his post, confirming it:  
‘Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.’ Atticus Finch, From, Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird  
“Well for your disobedience we shall begin the first punishment immediately, ten strikes should suffice. Kneel on the floor,” came the abrasive command from the officer.  
Peter refused, his eye glowering into the officer’s. The two men behind him moved toward him in union, pulling him off the chair and onto the floor. Aunt May watched, eyes agape as the two policemen pushed him into a kneeling position. One of the policemen pulled out a small cane. Circling him like a vulture as he began beating him with the cane,  
“One.” The smacking of the wood against Peter’s pale skin, covering it with angry red blotches.  
“Two, three.” A small whimper escaped from Peter’s lips like the cries of a kicked puppy.  
“Four, five, six.” Tears were streaming down Peter’s face from his tightly closed eyes.  
“Seven, eight, nine, ten,” the visceral slapping of the cane punctuating each number. Aunt May stood, watching on, flinching each time the cane smattered Peter’s skin. “Stand up.” The officer barked at Peter. He nervously did so, legs trembling slightly as he tried to steady himself, but he fell to cold carpet, quivering, gently on the floor. The officer rolled his eyes condescendingly, “five more”, he commanded. The beating of the cane was harsher now, and Peter was wincing as the smacking continued.  
May watched on as the scene played out, the anger boiling up inside of her like a volcano. She wanted to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t obey her. She could only watch on as her nephew was beaten, the cane like the axe of a headsman, until he was dragged off into one of those infamous black cars. Aunt May stood there, wallowing in guilt, despairing, knowing she’d let her nephew, her sister’s son, she’d promised to keep safe, be dragged off to a correctional training facility. 

The beatings didn’t stop. Hour after hour, day after day, the only thing Peter knew was that blasted slapping against his skin. Between that it was lessons, cooking and cleaning, the servitude Peter dreaded forced upon him, trained into him, until every time he considered refusing to obey that ghastly memory of pain hewn into him flared up like an open wound, and beating him into submission.  
Two weeks. Two weeks of training and control, and by the end of it Peter was a meek little omega, averting his eyes at the gaze of any of his trainers and following their every whim to the letter. An exemplary omega, Omega Parker, soon to take the name of his alpha would be up for purchase. Peter looked sickly, over the two weeks he became lethargic and weak, barely eating. His gaunt face and rib-tight skin made him look vulnerable and sorrowful constantly. His haggard eyes did not glimmer like they did once, the green emerald turned to mold and rot behind a permanent veil of tears. Alphas probably liked that skinny look, Peter figured, as he waited behind the scenes at his auction gala, holding his breath until he was taken out on stage for displaying, like a trophy.

 

Tony Stark hated these sorts of parties. The gala was a sickening affair. A gaudy event for the best of society to show off their finery and decadence. The glittering of raiments and gold did little to hide the toxicity of the event, or the selling of human beings. Tony rarely went to any of these galas, only coming because he knew that the omega who ran OLA was going to be auctioned off tonight and he had been an avid fan of it for months. He wasn’t going to purchase the omega, whoever it was, but he was nevertheless interested. It was only recently revealed that the creator was coming of age, and had been in possession of OPO for the typical two years, and an omega. Tony fled from conversation to conversation, glib glimpses into careless lives, alphas boasting and thumping their chests to their own achievements, their newly acquired omega, the latest mansion or penthouse. The entire thing was a mass of self-congratulatory ponces, just trying to convince everyone else that they, too, were upper class, but like a corpse left too long before embalming the entire thing was rank and rotted.  
A woman demandingly tapped a little fork against a golden champagne flute, silencing the room into hushed anticipation. “I would like to thank you all for attending,” she said, in her fake French accent, “as most of you know, the ringleader of the violent rebellious outlet, Omega Liberation Activism, has been brought to us tonight,” Tony could tell that her French accent was dropping, rolling his eyes at the facade she put on, “and we will be delighted to announce that he is, Omega Peter Parker!” The raucous applause rang out against the pounding in Tony’s ears, his blood running cold like arctic ice. He glared down at the young omega being pulled onto the stage. He was wearing nothing but fitted leather trousers and a black dress shirt, but it hung off his sickly, lethargic frame, and Tony could see that all the light once in his eyes were vacant, and replaced with fear and anxiety. Tony had no choice. He had to save Peter. It took three hours, and an exorbitant price, and his fists were slightly clenched as he agreed a price with the fake French accent woman, not caring to know her name.

The transfer was a long process. Peter was left sitting in a small room, as sweat rolled down his head and neck, and his arms trembled slightly. A woman opened the door, without saying a word handed him a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. That was unexpected, Peter thought. From what he’d read he thought that most omegas were taken to their owner's houses and given to them naked. He considered whether or not he was going mad, or if the movement he’d worked on was one big lie. This thought played over and over in his mind as he was lead into a black car and towards a large tower, but he didn’t dare look up, for fear of the rack and the screw. He was pushed into an elevator, and sent up alone. As the door opened he saw a familiar face, and Peter let out a hint of a smile before stepping forward.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the fuck did I tell you kid? What did I say? I said to keep your head down, and I told you that I’d make sure you got an alpha who’d let you be reasonably free.” Peter pointed his head down, wrinkling his eyes shut, sniffling slightly, and sealing his lips together, while Tony kept yelling, his voice ringing out like artillery and gunfire. “I promised you I’d have you with an alpha who’d allow you to continue being Spiderman. You had to go and mess that up, didn’t you? Things I would do, things I wouldn’t do, thin fucki-”  
A tortured wail burst from Peter’s throat as he collapsed on the floor, bawling, tears streaming down his face like blood from a fresh wound, lying on the floor, a crumpled mess, a discarded tissue, the well of restricted emotions bursting from him. Tony’s blood ran cold, and he rushed towards him. As Tony moved his hands toward Peter he flinched slightly. Tony took a deep breath, lifting him up and setting him on one of his sofas.

  
“Sorry,” Peter sniffled, “sorry for being so emotional Sir. If you wanted to punish me I think it would be fair. Not that I should say when I should be punished. I’m just an omega Sir”. Tony’s blood ran cold. The ebullient boy who had once courageously glared down Iron Man was kneeling and pleading and begging for the mercy of Tony Stark. He was calling him ‘Sir’. What had happened to him? He swaddled Peter in the blankets, making sure he was warm.  
“I’m going to get you some water, okay?” Peter limply nodded back in acquiescence. Tony rushed back, cracking open the water bottle before parting Peter’s lips and gently tipping some down. Peter seemed much more stable now, less, teetering on the edge of emotional collapse, more, alarmingly close, to teetering on the edge of emotional collapse.  
“Y’know you don’t have to talk like that Peter?”  
“What do you mean?” He asked, before quickly adding “Sir.”  
“That. You don’t need to call me Sir,”  
“Is Mr. Stark okay?”  
“Just call me Tony,”  
“Tony”, Peter mulled, the name resting on his tongue like oil. “Okay”.  
“So.” Muttered Tony, to fill the awkward silence now resting in the air. “How are things?”  
“Good,”  
“Good,”

  
They sat there, for several awkward seconds, the drumming of Tony’s fingers, the tick-tock of a clicking clock, the hum of an air con. “So how was your time with the OPO?”  
“Fine.” Peter looked away.  
“Are you alright?”  
“I’m fine.”  
“Peter?”  
“I said I’m fine!” His voice booming across the room. His mouth hung slightly agape, eyes widened in shock, taking a deep breath. “Ohmigod I’m so sorry honestly I didn’t mean to I’m sorry-”  
“Relax”, came Tony. Though startled his voice retained that authoritative alpha air to it.  
“God, I’m a mess,” Peter muttered, the shame building, before standing up with a blanket wrapped around him like a cloak,  
“That’s a very expensive silk mix throw, please stop dragging it on the floor.” Peter tossed it back, before sitting back down.

  
“Tony?”  
“Mm?”  
“We were told at OPO to try and serve our alphas whenever we could. Is there anything you want me to do?” Peter asked, kneeling on the sofa  
“What did they do to you there?”  
“I’d really rather not talk about it.”  
“You’re different to when you went in. You’re less … you. I don’t like it”  
“If you me want to tell you I can, but I’ll probably start crying,”  
“It’s good for you sometimes.”  
“Alright then”. Peter recounted everything. Every detail. The punishments, and the orders, and the beatings, and the whippings. He could never seem to escape them, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to be a good little omega, two years worth of conditioning were rammed into forty emotional minutes.  
“I remember once, they were teaching us how to cook, and I dropped a knife by accident. One of the guards was convinced I was trying to kill him, so they tied one of my hands behind my back. We were only allowed to eat what we cooked, and I could barely make anything.” Tony could see it. The way the t-shirt was too big, and his body hunched over, like an old man with arthritis would hunch. Peter started to weep a little, but Tony was there. Tony would always be there, gently pulling Peter into a chaste embrace.  
“Hey”, he said, stroking Peter’s hair, “don’t worry,”  
“Sorry.” Peter shouldn’t have to apologise for what these people had done to him. Their abuse had made a bright light into a bleak candle, ready to be snuffed out by a brutal beast of an alpha who laid their paws on him. “Why am I so weepy?”  
“I guess because of the whole, torture and abuse thing?” Tony got up, and Peter followed. “Going somewhere?”  
“Sorry, I don’t want to be alone.”  
“S’ fine. I was just gonna make myself some dinner.”  
“What time is it?”  
“Uhhh, not sure, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”  
“23:14.”  
“Okay, I’m gonna make you something to eat, and then you should sleep”. Peter knew that he wasn’t escaping Tony’s mother hen instincts, and after following him into a remarkably clean kitchen sat down at a table. “Eggs, ketchup, salt, beer. Takeaway?”  
“Sure.”  
“What do you want?”  
“Well if you’re okay with it, Chinese?”  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I want prawn sesame toast, some rice, and beef, Peter?”  
“Uh, just some spring rolls,” Tony gave him a little look, with a raised brow. Peter started again “and some egg-fried rice, General Tso’s Chicken, soup dumplings, duck rolls.”  
“You’re hungry,” proclaimed Tony,  
“Really? I didn’t notice.”  
“You do need to eat more, you look a bit ... lanky.”  
“Sorry.”  
“Stop apologising”.  
“See, the problem with being told to stop apologising is that I always want to say sorry afterwards.” Tony laughed, not some forced chuckle, but a laugh, a cackle stuffed with golden mirth and joy. “Oh my god. You sound like the Wicked Witch of the West.” Tony couldn’t help but laugh again.  
“Everyone tells me I don’t have a laugh, I cackle.”  
“You do, you absolutely do.” Their repartee continued back and forth, until the food arrived.  
Peter rubbed his hands, examining a banquet’s worth of takeaway. He stuffed chicken and rice and dumpling onto the same spoon, and in about thirty minutes had finished everything. Peter pointed towards Tony's prawn toast, "you gonna eat that?"

"Uh, no, you can have it." So Peter ate that too, with decisive satisfaction.  
“Ugh.” He proclaimed, pattings his stomach. “I haven’t eaten like that for weeks.”  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., show Peter to his room.”  
“I have my own room?”  
“I did plan some things,” replied Tony, dodging the question. “Again, I’m sorry for how I shouted earlier. Truly. I suppose I should’ve thought about you.” Peter could barely manage whispering a thank you. “Now go to bed, there should be a toothbrush in the bathroom, and some spare nightwear, if not, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will tell you where to find some stuff.” Peter nodded before heading in the direction F.R.I.D.A.Y. was signalling. "Night."  
"Night."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would recommend going back and re-reading the first two chapters before reading this one; I've made some changes to the timeline, and added a little preamble. As always, comments, criticisms and advice is helpful.

“Why are you up at 5:30 in the morning?” Asked Peter,

“I always get up at 5:30.”

“Yeah but why?”

“There are only so many hours in the day.”

“I’m going back to sleep,”

“You should try not to sleep all day,”

“I’m not going to sleep _all_ day,”

“It’s just not good for you. I’ll be down in the lab most of the day, ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to contact me and you’re welcome to join.” Said Tony, before muttering to himself, “might work on your suit,”

“Alright.”

“Eat first though,”

  
  


Tony glanced towards the elevator in his lab as it pinged, and the doors opened to reveals a slumping Peter in loose fitting sweatpants, and t-shirt, hanging limply on his frame. “Welcome to my humble abode." Peter didn't respond. "Are you alright?” Tony asked, to which Peter just, sort of nodded weakly. “Y’know, if you’re not okay you can tell me,” Tony said, as Peter nodded, again.

“I-” Peter started but stopped almost immediately.  

“D’you wanna sit down?” Asked Tony, as he pulled up a soft, leather chair for Peter to sit in. Peter meekly nodded once more. “So,” said Tony, with a dry chuckle, “anything you wanna tell me?” Peter opened his mouth, as if to start speaking, but forced it shut, quelling the rebellious desires in his mind, and as Tony watched he moved out a gentle hand towards Peter. Peter watched it warily, trembling slightly as it grew closer to him, causing Tony to pull back. “Relax, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.” Peter stared directly downward, to the floor.

“I-I-I just can’t really-”, Peter’s breathing grew heavy, and laboured, and faster and faster, like a steam train out of control speeding along the racks, and he began to cry, and weep, and he was bawling his eyes out, but Tony was there, pulling him into a soft, innocent hug,

“Hey, relax, just, try and breathe steadily”, he said, as his warm scent washed over Peter like the tides of a seaside, and Peter’s erratic breathing became racked, and hollowed, and began to return to normal.

“God, look at me, I’m a mess.”

“No Peter, you’re-”

“No, listen. I used to be doing something, I was pushing for omegas and their rights, but now I’m a mess, I’m using an alpha to stop me from crying. I once stood for something, I hoped I could change something but I’m just useless.” Tony pulled him tighter into their platonic hug, his arms wrapping around Peter’s back as he leaned into Tony’s shoulder, and Tony whispered,

“You are valuable, okay,”

“But I was gone for two years, and you didn’t put two and two together, you didn’t wonder why I dropped off the face of the earth. You didn’t even think about me once.” Tony hadn’t even thought of Peter in those two years, and didn’t consider him, he had no reason to do so. He just assumed Peter stopped messaging him, or whatever.

“I’m sorry Peter. Truly.” Peter just pulled closer towards Tony, as he wrapped his arms around the younger boy, and he cried, and cried, and cried.

  
  
  


“See, I like him, but I don’t wanna take advantage of him,” Said Tony,

“Wait,” said Steve, “who’s him?”

“Peter,”

“How are you taking advantage of him? Other than the whole, you're a rich cradle robber exploiting a young, not particularly well off boy”

“Uhh, gee I don’t know? Maybe because he literally spent the last two years of his life being taught that he was supposed to make some alpha happy?”

“So what are you going to do? Make him mentally healthy, ‘cos if you ask him after that he’s gonna feel obligated to do that, he probably feels obligated now because you are sheltering him.”

“Gee Steve, thanks for making me feel better about myself,” Tony said, but before they could continue the elevator door opened into the common floors as Peter stepped out, seeing Steve and Tony frozen in mid-conversation.

“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Peter asked

“No, no, don’t worry,” said Tony instantly.

“I was just going to make myself some lunch”, Peter said,

Tony insisted on helping him, even though it was just a sandwich. Peter popped down near Steve, starting to eat it before Steve began asking him about the last two years, and his experiences, and how he felt about Tony, Peter responding with how much he admired him, and looked up to him. Eventually, Steve realised he was keeping Peter away from his lunch, and apologising. Peter promptly finished his meal in his cold, protective dignity, before retreating back up to Tony’s floor, where his room was.

Tony Stark had procured a credit card for Peter, and part of him was in ecstasy over the fact that he could provide for an omega. His omega.  practically pounced on Peter as he came upstairs, saying “Peter, here’s a credit card, buy any stuff you need on it, I’ll pay it off, please don’t buy drugs on there, your aunt will kill me. Shit, your aunt, oh god we haven’t told her where you are, oh shit, fuck.” Peter’s eyebrows were raised up in surprise at Tony’s words, before realising, and asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to call his aunt, borrowing Tony’s laptop.

“Tony Stark, I swea- Peter? Oh my god, I’m so happy to see you’re okay. You look really gaunt. And why are you at the Avenger’s Tower?”

“Well technically Mr. Stark bought me-”

“You’re Tony Stark’s omega?” To which Peter just fidgeted, while Tony watched uncomfortably from the corner. “Well, not technically, no, he hasn’t bitten me if that’s what you’re saying.”

“First, why wasn’t I told this, second, when are you coming home?”

“That’s the thing,” Tony interjected, “legally, as an eighteen year old omega he has to be living with an alpha, so he sort of has to stay here”.

“Has he been listening to us talk the entire time?” Their conversation continued on this trajectory, Aunt May making accusatory statements against Tony, then Tony and Peter trying to clear it up. “Okay. Fine, you can stay with Tony, but if you ever feel uncomfortable you better call the police young man.”

“I will, I will.”

“Good, now, go and entertain yourself while I have a word with Tony,”

“But-”

“Go!” May yelled from her computer. Peter unwillingly sulked off to his room, finding a phone and a laptop there, Starktech, obviously, as well as a helpful list from Tony of things he might want to purchase. “Tony Stark, I swear to god if you hurt my nephew there will be nowhere you can hide from me, he is the only thing I have left. I swore to my sister I would keep him safe and if you hurt him.” She didn’t need to finish her sentence, but the tremble in her voice was remarkably threatening.

“Ms Parker, I have to ask, why didn’t you contact me when you knew he was in OPO custody?”

“I didn’t know you were going to purchase him. I thought you didn’t care about him. Why didn’t you do anything? Didn’t you realise?” Tony gave his head a morose shake.

“He’s out of their now, but I think it would do good for him to see you sometime.” They agreed Peter would meet May at a restaurant tonight, a small place Tony knew, that wouldn’t be too intimidating or pompous. “If you’re meeting at six I can take him to a nice place to get a suit.”

In her typically forthright tone May said “I’m not entirely comfortable with being treated like a charity case,” but Tony was able to quiet her, with promises of ‘I’m not exploiting him’, and ‘this is for him, not me’.

  


By six Peter had been shopping with Tony, had a nice suit bought for him, Tony insisting on buying him that, and a shirt, and a tie, and pocket square, and leather nice leather shoes, with a fancy name. It seemed a little excessive, but when Happy pulled Peter up to the restaurant he still felt underdressed, and uncomfortable. “May!”

“Peter? I’m so happy to see you again,” she said, her eyes showing the first hint of a tear, “How are you?”

“I’ve uh, been better,” he said, slightly amused, sitting down, as Aunt May let out a small giggle,

“How’s life with Stark? You should see some of the things the media is writing about you, calling you a sugar baby,”

“Honestly I don’t care. Tony told me that before I moved into Avengers Tower someone wrote that I was a terrorist omega rights activist.”

“Oh, I saw that. You need to be more careful with what you write, people’ll twist it.” Their conversation continued, before ordering with a petite looking waitress, scallops and fettuccine for May, and bruschetta, which Peter learnt was just toast with tomatoes and stuff, and a steak for Peter. They spoke together in a contented joy, until the first course arrived, with a glass of wine for May, and a juice for Peter, May still being strict. Sometime into his toast with tomatoes, as Peter decided to call it he realised he needed to come clean with Aunt May, but the second course came at the perfect time to prevent him from speaking.

“Oh, this is so good,” said May, but she noticed the troubled expression on Peter’s face. “Pete, sweetie, are you alright, how’s your steak?”

“Aunt May, I have to be honest.”

“Okay,”

“I, kinda, like Tony Stark.” Aunt May drew in a sharp breath, before nodding slowly.

“Okay,”

Peter tentatively continued, “And if he asked me to be his omega, I’d probably say yes. With your permission, of course.”

“I just have to ask something, well, two things actually. First, did Tony put you up to this?”

“No, no-no, I don’t even know how he feels about me. I mean he’s kinda known as a playboy.”

May knew of the man’s infamous reputation. “Okay, and you’re sure this is something you want? This isn’t that OPO programming shit coming in?”

“That’s what I’m worried about, that like, this isn’t me, this is some sort of weird psychology stuff, two years of conditioning and all that.”

“I want you to make sure this is actually your decision before you accept anything that man offers you, and if he ever demands anything you don’t like from you call the police immediately.”

“Y’know that since I’m an omega living in his custody he can do almost anything to me and get away with it. Except, like, murder, I guess.”

“Honestly Peter, if you were to bond with him, you’d be able to help him with his tech stuff. You’ve wanted to do that since you were little,”

“Actually I was down in his lab this morning,” said Peter, not mentioning the emotional breakdown he had.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was working on my suit,”

“Suit, as in your-”

“Yeah,” said Peter with a touch of pride, but May got a little nervous,

“Do be careful when you go out on duty. I don’t want to dote, but,”

“I know, I know.” Despite the threat of Tony’s advances May was happy for Peter. This is what he wants, she thought, I’m not going to prevent him from getting that. They continued their quiet conversation, in dim candlelight.

“Sir, madame, we have called Mr Stark, and he has settled the bill,” a waiter said politely.

“Oh, thank you,” Peter said, trying to sound as prim and proper as possible, but his voice came out remarkably high pitched.

“What was that?” May asked, “you do not talk like that,”

“I know, but like, I feel really uncomfortable here.

“D’you wanna go?”

“Please.”

Happy drove from the restaurant, all the way back to Queens, dropping May off at her apartment, with a hasty goodbye. Peter pulled out his new phone and messaged Tony,

_u know i have a phone already_

 

_Yeh but it isnt starktech_

 

_thanks tony_

 

_np, get home fine_

_happys driving me, did u make him wait for us for 2 hrs?_

 

_no he went off and came back when i got a call about the bill_

 

_oh right, ty_

 

Happy didn’t seem too, well, happy about having to drive Peter around, but Tony was ordered him to, so he didn’t exactly have a choice. Still, he refused to talk to Peter, so he just played around on his new phone, fiddling with the camera, and some of the tech on there.

“Peter? You getting out, or are you just gonna sit here?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He hurried out, as Happy sat there, gripping the wheel tightly in frustration, and drumming his foot. Peter entered the skyscraper, remembering the unfortunate previous circumstances when he was brought to the tower. As the elevator doors opened, he saw Tony shouting down the phone at someone,

“I don’t care. So? I’ll do the board meeting another time.” Here, he noticed Peter, and pointed in the direction of another room, mouthing that he was going there. When he was in the room he took another breath, and started yelling “I’m taking him to somewhere. Not sure yet. I was going to ask him, but someone keeps yelling at me down the phone. Fine, I’ll take him later.” Poking his head into his living room Tony said “how do you feel about going somewhere on Saturday?”

“Where?”

“That, my friend, is for you to decide.” Tony had to wrench a grimace of his face when he called Peter his friend.

“Okay, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you treating me so nicely?” Peter asked, the hope running through his voice. “‘Cos before you treated me like a little kid, ‘n you were really mean to me ‘n I feel like you hated, but now you are being really nice to me and I kinda don’t get it.”

“Well to be honest with you, I always liked you, you were just annoying sometimes, and reckless. But I never hated you, ever. I don’t ever want you to think that.

“Okay,” Peter nodded wearily. “Okay. Thank you, really. God, why am I crying again?” Tony smiled at him, in a warm, caring gaze. “Uh, sorry, mind if I head off. I’ve got stuff to do. If it’s okay I might start using my blog again.”

“Nah, that’s not a problem, but look over the list I gave you and order some of the stuff you might need.”

“I’m really not comfortable spending your money.”

“You aren’t going to bankrupt me, just spend like, less than 20k I guess,”

“I hate to tell you this but that is a lot of money,” Peter responded, half jokingly

“Seriously, I don’t care, Steve spends an excessive amount of money on sweatshirts that are too small for him.” Tony neglected to add that Steve had his own money, something Peter was unaware of.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I mean it’s so annoying, you can them ruching almost under his arms,” said Tony, as he shook his head in disapproval.

“So you’re okay with me buying stuff, as long as it’s not too small.”

“Go for it.”

“Thank you.”

 

Bedding, furnishing, clothing, so many -ings. The list was remarkably comprehensive, and even included websites that were Tony Stark Approved™. He spent a couple hours, browsing picking things out, deciding they were too expensive, before eventually adding everything he wanted. He examined his baskets, soft linen bedding and pillows, and a soft blanket in cashmere, and t-shirts in cotton and jeans, and coats and scarves, , calculating the total and messaging Tony.

_it all comes 2 7k is that ok?_

 

_I told you earlier, thats fine._

 

_sorry,_

 

_Why are you apologising_

 

_IDK that full stop seemed kinda angry_

 

Tony stared at his phone, sighing. Where did he ever find someone so innocent? And why couldn’t he have him?

_You think too much, dont worry_

 

_ok thank you_

 

_NP_

 

_going to go to sleep now_

 

_Night_


	5. Chapter 5

“Tony, how would you feel if I went out as Spiderman? I haven’t been out of here for a week, and I’m really hyper.”  
“Like, came out to the public as him?”  
“No, no-no, just like, on duty,” Peter said as Tony paused to consider this,  
“I’m honestly not comfortable with you going out alone,”  
“But I’m Spiderman, I haven’t been out as him for years, and I’m on those suppressants my aunt wanted me to be on, so I won’t get a random heat or anything,”  
“Peter, it really isn’t safe.”  
“So what, you think you can keep locked up here? You saw how that worked out for Wanda.” Tony winced a little at that low blow.  
“That was different, she could fight off Vision, and she could fight off me.”  
“And I couldn’t?” Peter questioned.  
“No you couldn’t, especially not while your suit is in my care.”  
“Are you threatening me?”  
“I want you to stop hurling yourself into life threatening scenarios. Remember what happened on that ferry? People would’ve died if I weren’t there. You could’ve died. You could die if you go out on duty.”  
“Okay, so what if you were keeping an eye on me?”  
“Well-” Tony stopped to consider for a moment, before realising there was no alternative, “I have meetings all day.  
“So? You’re going to cancel them anyway.”  
Tony opened his mouth as if to say something, but knew that Peter was right, instead pulling a broad smile across his face, genuinely joyful that he was going to spend some time with Peter. “Fine, fine, your suit should be in my lab. F.R.I.D.A.Y?”  
“Sure thing Boss,” came the automated voice, as an elevator pinged open, and Tony placed his hand on the small of Peter’s back, ushering him towards the elevator. They hurried down to Tony’s lab, Peter eager to get going, and Tony, eager to be with Peter.  
“Why is it in your lab?”  
“Basically the law says I can take your stuff from your old apartment, but your suit was the only thing I cared about. Where is it F.R.I.D.A.Y?”  
“On your left Boss. Your other left.”  
“How can an A.I. be that sarcastic?” Tony quipped. “Peter? You okay?”  
“Just kinda nervous. Anticipation and all that.”  
“You’ll be fine, if anything goes wrong I’ll be like 20 feet away, I’ll swoop in, hero, blah blah blah. You’ll be fine.”  
“Okay, okay.” Peter slowly nodded, “I’ll be fine,” and Tony placed a comforting hand around his shoulders.  
“God, Pepper’s gonna scream at me for this. Ready?”  
“How do I get out of here? Can’t exactly take the front door.”  
“I have a balcony you can probably use. Just get into your suit, I won’t look.” Peter awkwardly crouched behind a table, and Tony tapped a small glowing triangle on his chest, his suit traversing along each crevice with sinuous tendrils. Peter pulled on his suit, trying to shove his gangly legs and body into it, and tapped a small spider insignia, and his suit traced his now less terrifyingly skinny body, Tony making sure that he trained up with Steve; Both men trying to nurse the boy back up to health, in order to make sure he’d be able to handle himself, but, as always, Tony had something else he desired. “Good morning Peter.”  
“Karen?”  
“Of course Peter.” Tony’s phone went off,  
“Sorry, lemme take this,” said Tony, before dashing off into another room. “Steve, why are you calling me?”  
“Your A.I told me about you and Peter. Are you trying to romance him?”  
“I’m letting him out on duty; I’m just making sure he doesn’t, y’know, die.”  
“You’re trying to make him get a crush on you by saving him. That’s unhealthy.”  
“When did I ever do anything healthy?”  
“Tony-”, Tony turned off his phone and walked back into the room 

 

Tony directed Peter back up into the elevator, and towards one of several balconies. “Just go whenever Petey. It’s not like I cancelled meetings for you or anything. Jump.” Peter did just that, plummeting towards the ground, latching onto a building to his left, and using his momentum to carry him forward onto a rooftop of a nearby building, landing, slightly clumsily.  
“You alright?” Tony’s voice crackled over some sort of speaker in his ear,  
“When did you install this?”  
“Since I gave it to you, just never had to use it before.”  
“Huh. Alright then. I’m just gonna find some crime to stop.”  
“Remember, don’t go rushing into life-threatening scenarios unprepared. Or I’ll lock you up again,” Tony said, only partially joking, but Peter just laughed at him,  
“You wouldn’t dare,” he yelled down into the suit and Tony’s tinny laughing came through the system. Peter dashed towards another nearby building hopping with recovered grace onto a rooftop a stupid grin like a madman’s pulled taut on his face as dashed from roof to roof latching onto a building for his momentum to carry him round so fast the background became an ocean of substanceless blue. Peter felt cleansed. For the first time in two years he’d been able to go out and he was free. His senses pricked up and he stopped himself before leaping over a ledge. He glanced down, watching the scene below.  
“Look, here’s my wallet, here’s my phone, alright. You won’t hurt me, will you?” Peter waited until one of the three attackers bent down to pick up the dropped phone and wallet, leaping down from his perch on the roof onto the heads of the man at the back, opening his mouth, before realising he didn’t have a quip, instead just shouting at the top of his lungs. His senses triggered before he knew what was happening, ducking as a bullet went over his head, before dashing towards the two men, dodging left and right and left and right. The man with the knife came forward and Peter launched himself into the air, kicking him directly in the head, as more gunshots went off in the background, as the man in front of him collapsed. Turning to the final man he launched webs at his hands, binding them around the gun so his fingers were trapped away from the trigger, before running towards him, taking out his legs, before pulling the gun away and tying his hands behind his back. “Karen contact the police and tell them where these guys are. Uh, hey dude? Are you okay?”  
“Are you?” The suited man on the ground asked. His voice and hand trembled, as it raised up to Peter’s chest. Peter looked down. And then that red bloomed.  
“Peter, you appear to be losing a lot of blood from your centre mass, would you like me to contact Tony Stark?”  
“Yes, yes-yes, oh shit.  
“Peter?” Tony’s voice came through his suit, laced with violent concern, “what’s happening?”  
“Got shot, ‘m losing blood. Tony you need to help-,” Peter said, slurring his words as they came out, before that black void swallowed him.  
The Iron Man suit pulled Tony rapidly towards that small body. “Peter? Shit, F.R.I.D.A.Y, pull up vitals.”  
“Got it Boss,”  
“What’s his typical heart rate?”  
“112 Boss. I have come to believe the spider bite causes it to be so extreme.  
“And what about now?” Tony asked,  
“89 Boss. The adrenaline his body produced seems to be the only thing keeping it this high. My estimates suggest it will drop to below average in about two minutes. One more minute and he will be critical.” Three minutes, that was all Tony had before Peter became critical.  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y, put all power in thrusters, try and seal the wound as much as possible,” Tony said, picking up Peter bridal style and pushing up into the air, towards the Avengers tower. “How long until I get to the medical wing?  
“About 4 minutes Boss. I’ve already told them to prepare for an emergency. They’ve opened up one of their windows so you can get in.” 

Tony was pushing his suit faster towards the large, open window he could now see, the wind racing by, the window growing nearer by the second, trying to haul Peter’s little over to the opening, his body rapidly losing blood despite the metal fibres F.R.I.D.A.Y had placed over the bullet hole. Manoeuvring his suit into the medical wing a doctor and nurse lifted the limp boy out of his arms.  
“Mr Stark, you’re probably in shock, we have someone who can see you now-” Tony’s brushed off the man harassing him with a clipboard,  
“How long until he goes into surgery?”  
“He’s going in right now, I can tell you when he comes out if you wish?”  
“Do it.” Tony said glumly. He needed a drink, heading upstairs to his floor, pulling some brown drink off a small shelf, his hands trembling slightly as he poured it into a small glass. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, alert me when Peter comes out of surgery.” 

An hour and half, and three drinks later Tony heard F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice, “Mr Parker is now out of surgery, shall I tell him you’re coming down?”  
“Sure.” Tony headed toward an elevator,  
“He appears to be rather upset Boss.” Tony now hurried forward, urging the elevator, as it pulled him forward.

 

“Tony,”  
“Bruce?”  
“They uh, called me down, wanted advice, none of them are mutants, so I guess I’m the expert around here.”  
“So, Dr,” Tony asked brazenly, “How is he?”  
“Well they got the bullet out, and he’s healing rapidly.”  
“And let me guess, they had to take his mask off, didn’t they?”  
“Well yes bu-”  
“Ugh, shit. The poor boy is gonna be distraught.”  
“Should you go and see him then? You’re not going to stop him from being Spiderman.” Tony glared at him in response.  
“Don’t follow me,” Tony said, as Bruce was just left standing there awkwardly.


End file.
